This book is a work of fiction Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental Copyright © 2012 by Kate Alcott All rights reserved Published in the United States by Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto www.doubleday.com DOUBLEDAY and the portrayal of an anchor with a dolphin are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc Jacket design by Lynn Buckley Jacket photograph © Ute Klaphake/Trevillion Images LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA Alcott, Kate The dressmaker : a novel / Kate Alcott.—1st ed p cm Women dressmakers—Fiction Titanic (Steamship)—Fiction Survival after airplane accidents, shipwrecks, etc.—Fiction English— United States—Fiction I Title PR6101.L426D74 2011 823’.92—dc22 2011018899 eISBN: 978-0-385-53562-5 v3.1 To Frank, always Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Acknowledgments Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Author’s Note About the Author ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Good friends read and read … how many versions? My thanks to you all— Ellen, Irene, Judy, Linda, Margaret, and my sister, Mary Esther, you are a stand-out, stand-up friend and agent And Melissa, your ideas and enthusiasm were just what a writer hopes for from a good editor And Frank, you gifted me with my magnificent replica of the Titanic, betting mine wouldn’t sink Thank you CHERBOURG, FRANCE APRIL 10, 1912 Jess pulled at the corners of the sheets she had taken straight from the line and tried to tuck them tight under the mattress, stepping back to check her work Still a bit bunchy and wrinkled The overseer who ran this house was sure to inspect and sniff and scold, but it didn’t matter anymore She glanced out the window A woman was walking by, wearing a splendid hat topped with a rich, deep-green ribbon, twirling a bright-red parasol, her face lively, her demeanor confident and sunny Tess tried to imagine herself stepping forward so confidently without someone accusing her of behaving above her station She could almost feel her fingers curling around the smooth, polished handle of that parasol Where was the woman going? She gazed back at the half-made bed No more fantasizing, not one more minute of it She walked out into the central hall and stopped, held in place by the sight of her reflection in the full-length gilded mirror at the end of the hall Her long dark hair, as always, had pulled out of a carelessly pinned bun, even as the upward tilt of her chin, which had so often registered boldness, remained in place But there was no denying the shameful crux of what she saw: a skinny young girl wearing a black dress and a white apron and carrying a pile of dirty linens, with a servant’s cap sitting squarely and stupidly on the top of her head An image of servitude She yanked the cap off her head and hurled it at the glass She was not a servant She was a seamstress, a good one, and she should be paid for her work She had been tricked into this job Tess dumped the soiled linens down the laundry chute and climbed the stairs to her third-floor room, untying her apron as she went Today, yes No further hesitation There were jobs available, the dockworkers had said, on that huge ship sailing for New York today She scanned the small room No valise—the mistress would stop her cold at the door if she knew she was leaving The picture of her mother, yes The money Her sketchbook, with all her designs She took off her uniform, put on her best dress, and stuffed some undergarments, stockings, and her only other dress into a canvas sack She stared at the half-finished ball gown draped over the sewing machine, at the tiny bows of crushed white velvet she had so painstakingly stitched onto the ballooning blue silk Someone else would have to finish it, someone who actually got paid What else? Nothing She took a deep breath, trying to resist the echo of her father’s voice in her head: Don’t put on airs, he always scolded You’re a farm girl, your job, keep your head down You get decent enough pay; mind you don’t wreck your life with defiance “I won’t wreck it,” she whispered out loud “I’ll make it better.” But, even as she turned and left her room for the last time, she could almost hear his voice following her, as raspy and angry as ever: “Watch out, foolish girl.” The rotting wood planks beneath Lucile’s feet were spongy, catching her boot heels as she made her way through the crowd on the Cherbourg dock She pulled her silver-fox stole snugly around her neck, luxuriating in the plush softness of the thick fur, and lifted her head high, attracting many glances, some triggered by the sight of her brilliantly red hair, others by the knowledge of who she was She glanced at her sister walking quickly toward her, humming some new song, twirling a red parasol as she walked “You enjoy playing the blithe spirit, don’t you?” she said “I try to be an agreeable person,” her sister murmured “I have no need to compete; you may have the attention,” Lucile said in her huskiest, haughtiest voice “Oh, stop it, Lucy Neither of us is impoverished on that score Really, you are cranky lately.” “If you were presenting a spring collection in New York in a few weeks, you’d be cranky, too I have too much to worry about with all this talk of women hiking their skirts and flattening their breasts All you have to is write another novel about them.” The two of them started squeezing past the dozens of valises and trunks, brass hinges glowing in the waning light, their skirts of fine wool picking up layers of damp dust turned to grime “It’s true, the tools of my trade are much more portable than yours,” Elinor said airily “They certainly are I’m forced to make this crossing because I don’t have anyone competent enough to be in charge of the show, so I must be there So please don’t be frivolous.” Elinor closed her parasol with a snap and stared at her sister, one perfect eyebrow arched “Lucy, how can you have no sense of humor? I’m only here to wish you bon voyage and cheer you on when the ship departs Shall I leave now?” Lucile sighed and took a deep breath, allowing a timed pause “No, please,” she said “I only wish you were sailing with me I will miss you.” “I would like nothing better than to go with you, but my editor wants those corrected galleys back by the end of the week.” Elinor’s voice turned sunny again “Anyway, you have Cosmo—such a sweetheart, even if he doesn’t appreciate poetry.” “A small defect.” “He’s a dear, and his best gift to you has been a title Is that too crass? But it is true that he has no literary appreciation.” Elinor sighed “And he can be boring.” “Nonsense.” “You know it as well as I Where is he?” Lucile was scanning the crowd, searching for the tall, angular figure of Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon “This delay is maddening If anybody can get things operating efficiently and on time, Cosmo can.” “Of course That’s his job.” Lucile glanced sharply at Elinor, but she was looking elsewhere, an innocent expression on her face Up the hill, away from the shipyard, amid the sprawling brick mansions on the bluffs of the Normandy coast, Tess was marching downstairs to the parlor Waiting for her was the mistress, a prim Englishwoman with lips so thin they seemed stitched together “I want my pay, please,” Tess said, hiding the canvas sack in the folds of her skirt She could see the envelope waiting for her on the corner table by the door, and began edging toward it “You haven’t finished my gown for the party, Tess,” the woman said in a more querulous tone than usual “And my son could hardly find a towel in the hall closet this morning.” “He’ll find one now.” She was not going back upstairs She would never again be backed into that linen closet, fighting off the adolescent son’s eager, spidery fingers That was her envelope; she could see her name written on it, and she wasn’t standing around to hear the usual complaints before it was doled out She moved closer to the table “You’ve said that before, and I’m going upstairs right now to check.” The woman stopped as she saw the girl reaching out for the envelope “Tess, I haven’t given that to you yet!” “Perhaps not, but I have earned it,” Tess said carefully “Rudeness is not admirable, Tess You’ve been very secretive lately If you pick that up before I give it to you, you have burned your bridges with me.” Tess took a deep breath and, feeling slightly dizzy, picked up the envelope and held it close, as if it might be snatched away “Then I have,” she said Without waiting for a reply, she opened the heavily ornate front door she would never have to polish again and headed for the docks After all her dreaming and brooding, the time was now The dock was slippery with seaweed Heart pounding, she pressed into the bustle and chaos around her and sucked into her lungs the sharp, salty air of the sea But where were the signs advertising jobs? She accosted a man in a uniform with large brass buttons and asked in hesitant French and then urgent English who was in charge of hiring staff for cleaning and cooking on that big new ship “You’re too late, dear, the servicepeople have all been hired and the passengers will soon be boarding Bad luck for you, I’m afraid.” He turned away It didn’t matter how brightly she smiled; her plan was falling apart Idiot— she should have come down earlier What now? She gulped back the hollow feeling of not knowing what came next and tried to think Find families; look for young children She would be a good nanny Didn’t having seven younger brothers and sisters count as experience? She was ready to go, no trouble at It wasn’t done But times were changing Lord, who knew what was next with women like this She wasn’t backing down, or smiling, or trying to win him over She was setting the bar Amazing “What are they offering you?” “A dollar an hour.” “Jesus, where they get the money?” “Beats me.” “Okay, kid Seventy-five cents an hour Best I can do.” “One dollar.” They stared at each other If there was ever a time when she mustn’t break eye contact, it was now Van Anda threw his pencil down on the desk “Okay, one dollar You better be worth it.” She grinned wide, but her legs were trembling “You already know I am, Carr.” “Yep Do me a favor, will you? Keep this under your hat or all the men will want more money, too.” He was scratching his ear, looking a bit shocked at himself; they would joke about it later, maybe tomorrow Pinky sailed back to her desk, humming She had done it; she had good news to bring home to her father Forget the chicken Tonight it would be fresh corn and a flank steak Today, she felt she could see the future It was all right And she would, as her father said she would, somehow, herself, someday, dance on the moon Or, at least, see Africa The solid click of the lock on her apartment door was an incredible relief Alone, Tess sank into a chair and pulled her mother’s letter from her pocket Just the sight of the familiar handwriting gave her a sudden longing for home, so much so that the first words on the page were shocking: My dear daughter, you’ve survived a terrible tragedy, but above all, don’t think about coming home She read on, her hands holding the paper so tightly, it almost tore: You have done a brave thing, and I want you to find your place in that new world of New York, whatever it might be We both know that if you were here you’d be cleaning parlors and mending dresses for the rest of your life I lie in bed at night staring at the ceiling and trying to imagine what it must be like I can almost imagine it being me There was more, mainly news about her father and her brothers and sisters, and about the neighbors and the price of cheese and meat and the bad year for potatoes She read eagerly, starved for the plainness of her past life And then at the end: I’ve told you to look for opportunity, dear Tess Keep your head up, not down Don’t settle for safety Push forward—you are not foolish to try Tess folded the letter smooth, staring at it on the table in front of her You are not foolish to try Try for what? Jack would open the whole world for her Not only that, he could help her open up the world for her mother To think of it, to think of her mother freed of the grinding labors of her life, of having some ease and comfort, was overwhelming What an extraordinary thing to have a man like that love her It made her feel valued in a way she had never known, as if she danced inside a fairy tale She had dreamed about him, and had then found herself gently enfolded into his version of the world But perhaps the same had been true of the second Mrs Bremerton And the first She could allow herself to think of Jim, too To remember the energy and excitement of life bursting from him, surrounding her, making her laugh and dream and think—that’s what he represented Not security, just hope There was no more time to avoid the only question that mattered Why was she thinking of choosing a man who could make her whole? How could she that when she didn’t yet know who she was in this new world? She stood and walked over to the dresser, where she had placed Jim’s lifeboat, picking it up, tracing its lines and curves with her finger, wondering suddenly if it would float She carried it to the washbasin, drew water, and placed it gently inside It rocked a bit on its slightly rounded bottom, then moved forward, bumping against the side of the basin How skillfully it had been carved She thought of Jim’s deft fingers, his excitement when he took her to the carpentry shop She waited Why did this matter? It didn’t, of course But it did float And she found herself yearning to hope The sky was fully dark when she knocked on the door of Jack Bremerton’s office She waited, it seemed for a long time, before she heard the rattle of the chain inside as it was unhooked The man named Mr Wheaton—Jack’s secretary—opened the door, his eyes widening “He isn’t expecting you.” “I know, but I have to talk to him.” “Oh, dear.” He hesitated, as if debating whether to let her in “Well, he’s not here at the moment, but please come in He’s with Mr Ford at dinner Is something wrong?” He was watching her carefully “I need to talk to him, Mr Wheaton.” “Of course Would you like a sherry?” He moved to a sideboard, picked up a crystal decanter, and poured a glass of the wine-red liquid, giving a quick little bow as he handed it to her “You mean a great deal to him, you know I hope nothing is wrong.” Tess sipped the sherry, wishing Jack would appear She didn’t want to talk with Wheaton, not now “I’m happy to hear the seaman who rowed Lifeboat One escaped the trap set by the Duff Gordons,” he said “It was a great relief,” she replied in surprise She wondered how he knew Wheaton turned and placed the decanter on the sideboard He seemed to make a sudden decision He looked at her, his features sharpening “You know who arranged that, I presume?” It took a second or two before she realized what he was telling her “It was Jack?” “Yes.” “Oh, my goodness.” He had done that for her He had saved Jim from shame and trouble He had done that, taking a burden of worry from her shoulders The fact that he was powerful enough to it so quickly was amazing What an act of tremendous charity “He doesn’t want you to know.” “Why?” she asked She wished he would come in the door right now, this minute, so that she could thank him to his face immediately “He didn’t want it to influence you He didn’t want you to marry him because you were—grateful It wouldn’t be enough.” “No, it wouldn’t.” “I’m guessing by your manner why you’re here I realize Jack is impulsive and all this has happened quickly But I must say, if you have concerns he is a fine, upstanding man.” “I know that—I truly have never doubted it,” she said Together they heard the click of the lock on the front door “Goodbye, Miss Collins.” Wheaton smiled faintly and disappeared through another door, closing it gently behind him And now Jack was standing in front of her He blinked, startled, then seemed to know, without a word being spoken, why she was there “Let me hold you first,” he said “I can’t, I just have to say it.” “No, I will You aren’t going to marry me.” “You are an amazing, quite wonderful man But no, I can’t.” “Why not?” “I don’t feel what I want to feel.” It hurt to say it; his eyes widened He strode to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of sherry His voice, though still relaxed, had an edge “Tess, I love you I will make you happy, you can anything There’s plenty of money I told you, if you want a design shop, I will give you one What you want? I’ll get it for you I want to spoil you.” Tess’s thoughts flew to Cosmo and Lucile “I don’t want to be spoiled.” “It’s perfect, you and me Where is your courage?” “I’m trying to exhibit some now.” “Go ahead, then I’m listening.” There was no way to express her doubts gently “I feel borne along on your enthusiasm and certainty, but it isn’t real enough for me.” Jack seemed back in total control of himself “Tess, you think I’m under any illusions about the source of your attraction to me? May I say it bluntly, dear? It’s all right to want money and security; women have their reasons for marrying older, established men It’s the way the world works.” He flashed one of his calm, wry smiles “We each have our bargaining chips.” “I wonder if we both are acting on what we want to be real You’ve had two wives already.” She thought of the first Mrs Bremerton, standing at Lucile’s doorway, as hard and contained as a marble statue He blinked “That’s cruel of you I can’t undo my past mistakes.” She swallowed “You might eventually want a fourth one.” “So that’s what this is all about.” “The fear of that might make me become someone different But that’s not why, Jack It’s much more.” “What matters? What matters besides us? I adore you What more you want?” What more, indeed? She would have comfort beyond her dreams But not to be able to give back in similar measure—to love him equally—would leave an emptiness that couldn’t be filled And then, eventually, she wouldn’t try She would take; she wouldn’t give She would be left with a tepid heart “To be wholly myself first,” she whispered “If we all waited for that, we’d nothing.” “I want to try.” His eyes wavered He rubbed a hand through his hair as he drained the glass, then stood and stared at the wall “Well, at least you’re telling me to my face I tend not to that in my life So there’s my character flaw, dear I’m a coward But good at chess.” “Jack, you saved Jim, and I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart It was a selfless act.” “That damn Wheaton!” “I’m glad I know.” “Well, it wasn’t selfless I just wanted you, with unencumbered emotions It was the easiest way to guarantee it And I suspect Jim has something to with your change of heart.” “Yes, he does But he doesn’t know it.” “Well, perhaps you should let him know.” “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” His reply was almost kind “Perhaps not.” “In a way, it doesn’t matter.” She could tell that he didn’t understand, so she switched the subject “Why did you something so enormously generous?” “Because I like having the power to get what I want—that’s what it’s about I enjoy winning It was just one more thing I could do.” “I don’t believe it’s only that.” He sighed “All right, Tess I don’t like people like the Duff Gordons who casually ruin other people’s lives, and I’m happy to thwart them And I don’t like companies like White Star Lord knows, I’ve made a lot of money off their kind, but that doesn’t mean I believe their delusions When they get in trouble, they’ll offer up anybody to save themselves Here’s the joke— companies like White Star end up believing their own boasts World’s grandest ship, indestructible—that kind of thing That’s when they get in trouble And they don’t see it So they it again and again And people like me find ways to profit.” “That sounds—very American.” “It is Look,” he added slowly, “you’re afraid I’ll get restless and move on; that’s what my wives said You could change that.” “Not by myself.” “Maybe that’s what I wanted most Your faith in me It’s obviously not there.” He looked at her sadly, tenderly “You are so fresh and young, my dear Perhaps I would kill that with my own cynical take on life.” There was nothing more to say They stood apart, strangely relieved, without grief “I wish you well,” she said “Jack, I’m trying to be the person I believe I am, because if I don’t that, if I play a role, any role, I’ll end up making us both unhappy.” “Like the famous Lucile?” “Perhaps.” He let out an almost derisive snort “She certainly proved a powerful role model.” Tess turned to go She had done it, snipped her second lifeline in this new country Yet there was no uncertainty, no anguish, just that same pervasive sadness that had taken her out of Lucile’s loft and brought her here “What made up your mind?” “My mother, in part Mostly my own common sense.” He paused, absorbing her words “And I don’t fit into that.” He raised a hand when she started to reply “I guess that proves I can’t start making more out of my life by shaping yours.” He moved forward, giving her a gentle, brief embrace “Goodbye, Tess.” She hugged him back “Goodbye, Jack.” She opened the door, then squeezed the knob tightly as she closed it behind her The morning was cloudy, with a soft wind blowing, bending the fragile tulips that grew in clusters along the edge of the flower beds at Union Square Tess, her loose hair blowing in the wind, gazed across the park to the short, nondescript building that held Jim’s woodworking shop She had no reason to think she would see him, and certainly no intention of approaching him, but somehow she had found herself here, waiting for something to come clear Perhaps she was just here to say a silent goodbye She would soon know And then she saw him His lanky figure, slightly hunched forward, his gait loose and springy—a young man hurrying toward his future She couldn’t make out his features under his cap, but she knew that man, those hands I know how he feels, she told herself Everything is open; everything is possible How can I interfere with that? As he reached the shop, he turned in her direction She lifted her arm and waved slowly For a few seconds he stood still, poised on the step Then he lifted his hand and waved back; waved for a long, sweet moment Then he turned, disappearing into the shop So it was, indeed, goodbye She made her way toward Washington Square Park, inhaling the sweet smells of spring in the air Her step was steady Everything was ahead The park was a sea of patriotic color, with flags of red, white, and blue waving amid an array of women dressed in dazzling white Tess walked through the crowd, amazed at the energy and excitement Women were pushing wicker prams with swaddled, bored-looking babies in them, while others laughed and shouted to one another, some of them singing songs she had never heard They all wore hats—silk bonnets, straw boaters—and banners across their chests proclaiming VOTES FOR WOMEN One group was raising a large sign, a sheet inked with the words WE DEMAND EQUALITY How many were here? Pinky’s story had said this morning they expected twenty thousand people, women from the home, the theater, women’s clubs; even Quakers would be on the march She looked around, craning her neck to see above the crowd, and spotted a graceful stone arch This must be what Pinky had been talking about Getting to it was taking some elbowing “You going to the tallyho parade, lady?” shouted a man cheerfully as she tried to squeeze by him “All the way up Fifth Avenue? You ladies have the strength for that?” It was a carnival Breathtaking All this activity for the vote? Young girls in pinafores were running around with canvas newsbags selling suffrage magazines or twirling parasols with WE WANT THE VOTE scrawled across their cotton surfaces Young men stood on the sidelines, poking one another and laughing Tess’s eye was caught by one small knot of women, looking quite grim, waving a banner that read YOU DISHONOR OUR BRAVE MEN A woman in a gray serge coat was shouting at a stout suffragist in white As Tess moved closer, she saw that the woman in white was Mrs Brown “How could you betray us by supporting these people?” yelled the woman in gray “You were with us on that ship! What was wrong with saving women and children first?” Her voice spiraled into the wail that was so familiar to Tess; remembering it made her shiver “Honey, it cuts both ways,” Mrs Brown replied in a firm voice “We had good men and some rotten ones Same for women—don’t get your bloomers in such a frenzy.” That only provoked more shouting Another woman in white thrust her face full at the woman in gray “Accepting male chivalry just weakens us,” she said urgently “Don’t you understand?” Mrs Brown spotted Tess and gave her a hug “Well, dearie, now you’re seeing how we things in America,” she said “I kind of wish my suffrage friends had left this particular argument for equality off the books It’s cutting down on the numbers today.” With a wave, she began to drift back into the crowd “Tess! Tess!” Pinky had spotted her, and was jumping up and down to get her attention “You came!” She elbowed through the crowd and grabbed Tess’s hand “Isn’t this incredible?” she said “Everybody is here—mothers and housewives, milliners, librarians, social workers, laundry workers Tess, everybody is for it; we’re going to get the vote!” “I’ve never seen so many different kinds of women in one place,” Tess said She briefly wondered how they had all been able to get permission to leave their jobs for the march “We’ve got Chinese women here Their feet are bound when they’re babies and they can barely hobble around, so they will ride in a carriage But they can vote in their country—what you think of that?” Pinky pointed in the direction of a carriage covered in flowers “Our oldest suffragist is ninetyfour; she’ll ride in that And we’ve got thousands of men joining us Isn’t that something?” Tess nodded, not trying to talk above the din “We’re organizing now Come over here—I want to show you the white horse I get my chance to ride it before we start; it’ll be a good picture for the Times.” “Who rides it in the parade?” “A woman lawyer, believe it or not.” Pinky was greeted exuberantly as she joined the crowd around the horse “Your turn, Pinky!” someone shouted Tess reached out to stroke the animal’s nose It was a beautiful mare, tall and strong, with intelligent eyes, as dazzlingly white as the dresses on the women gathering for the march Its gaze seemed to rest on her, offering pride She liked that “Up you go!” Pinky, helped by two other women, swung herself up into the saddle She felt filled with excitement, and it wasn’t just because of her chance to play this little part in history Last night she had feared that Tess was about to vanish, but something had changed even as they talked She had felt it then; she knew it now She clutched the saddle horn, feeling strong and powerful She could see everything from up here “This is wonderful!” she shouted, scanning the crowds fanning out throughout the square “Be sure to hold on,” Tess said “Hold on? I want to gallop around the park!” She glanced down at Tess “Come on, you’ve got to get up here.” She slid her way down the flank of the horse and jumped to the ground She grabbed Tess and put the reins in her hands “Climb on!” “Why not?” Tess said, laughing And up she went, swinging her leg over the back of the magnificent animal, pulling herself tall The view was breathtaking Her gaze swept out across the splendid, exciting square Yes, she could see the horizon, the view so much more sweeping than she had expected She saw now what Jim had seen, what had been there all the time So much to and know, and yes, she could this And then she saw something else A familiar figure, cap pushed back, walking toward her She saw him moving closer, saw those clear, blue eyes She heard a laugh—whose? Her own And it was all right She could be right or wrong, but her vow to herself was clear now She would be strong and not always too careful, not settle for a smaller life, and face what was true What was true? Perhaps it was here, staring her in the face “May I help you down?” Jim said He was standing beneath her now, his hands on the bridle, looking up, his eyes alight Palms up, arms stretched out, she reached toward him “Yes,” she said AUTHOR’S NOTE Much of the testimony in this book is taken directly from the transcripts of the U.S Senate hearings in the aftermath of the sinking of the Titanic The basic bones of the story are true: Lady Duff Gordon, a world-famous designer, escaped with her husband and secretary in a lifeboat that, according to various reports, could have held between forty and fifty people instead of only twelve She adamantly opposed going back for survivors Cosmo Duff Gordon did offer the crewmen money—whether as a bribe to obey his wife’s demands or as an act of gratitude, no one really knows Cosmo and Lucile were vilified in the press on both sides of the Atlantic Although in my story Lucile testifies in the United States, she and Cosmo actually escaped that ordeal However, they drew heavy attacks when they were forced to testify in England The public scorn and ridicule took a toll In the aftermath of the hearings, the House of Lucile—yes, she did give romantic names to her gowns—began its long decline, and Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff Gordon eventually separated Senator William Alden Smith delivered his final, emotional report on the U.S Titanic hearings in a crowded Senate chamber on May 18, 1912 At the heart of the disaster, he said, was a reckless “indifference to danger” at several key points He listed them: The Titanic was moving too fast through an iceberg field The crew was inexperienced There were no binoculars on board Wireless communication was inadequate There had been no lifeboat drills, and there were not enough lifeboats for all the people on the Titanic He successfully urged Congress to pass legislation that would mandate sufficient lifeboats on all ships And the great Margaret Brown—later remembered as the “unsinkable Molly Brown”—was a true oar-wielding heroine of the Titanic All else is fiction, with the exception of a puzzle at the heart of this tragedy for which there is no single answer: why did only one lifeboat make an attempt to save those dying in the water? It is on that question that my story is built And finally, Millvina Dean, the last survivor of the Titanic, died at the age of ninety-seven on May 31, 2009 This was exactly ninety-seven years to the day after the Titanic was launched from Belfast Kate Alcott ABOUT THE AUTHOR is a journalist who has covered politics in Washington, DC, where she currently lives KATE ALCOTT Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Acknowledgments Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Author’s Note About the Author ... foggy, but her mother’s crying from inside the house had become louder Her father’s hands were almost tearing the cap apart “She’ll do.” Then her mother was there, grabbing her by the arm, pulling... her face Up the hill, away from the shipyard, amid the sprawling brick mansions on the bluffs of the Normandy coast, Tess was marching downstairs to the parlor Waiting for her was the mistress,... thin they seemed stitched together “I want my pay, please,” Tess said, hiding the canvas sack in the folds of her skirt She could see the envelope waiting for her on the corner table by the door,